


Picture Perfect

by Bidawee



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Dynamics, Family Issues, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Meet the Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-08-13 02:01:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20166301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bidawee/pseuds/Bidawee
Summary: Auston visits Mitch’s perfect home and his perfect suburban family and finds out that all is not what it seems.





	Picture Perfect

**Author's Note:**

  * For [slightlyoutoftime](https://archiveofourown.org/users/slightlyoutoftime/gifts).

> Any descriptions or interpretations of family life should be accepted as part of an alternative universe.

That summer is abnormally hot, even without their air conditioning deciding to take a break for the holidays. They take to hanging out in the basement of their place where it’s the coolest, balancing beer cases on their stomachs and pressing the cans to the back of their necks. The chugging of the small fans’ blades working overtime competes with the surf rock Mitch is playing from his speakers.

Auston is down to his boxers while Mitch still has a thin undershirt on. They’d started that morning with smoothies and hand-cut fruit, sharing lazy kisses over the bar counter, but by the afternoon had created more distance between each other, realizing it made more sense to be apart. There isn’t much you can do when it gets this hot, so here they are down in the dark basement, passing around a bowl of pretzels as the box television spits up static.

Auston’s been chewing on the same pretzel stick for over a minute when he hears Mitch hum. It’s not one of those cute hums, like when he’s comparing the price of cottage cheese at the grocery store. He’d better describe it as uneasy.

He taps Mitch’s thigh. “What’s up?”

“Oh, it’s nothing.” Mitch puts his phone down, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. “My mother’s on my ass about coming home and visiting for the summer.”

“Well, why don’t you?” Auston says.

“Trust me, it’s very complicated. I can’t go into it now.”

“No sweat.” Auston kicks his legs out. The noise he makes must be inappropriate because he hears Mitch groan from two cushions down.

His effort to get comfortable doesn’t last long. Maybe he just wants an excuse to move around, but he's in the mood to go back upstairs. There's probably a bag of unopened chips upstairs if he roots through the pantry.

He touches Mitch with his foot when he stands. “I’m going to go piss, do you want anything else to eat?”

“I might’ve, but then you told me you were going to go piss. Soo,” Mitch drags out the o’s.

Auston grabs him by the shirt, pretending to drag him up. He probably stretches the fabric a bit but Mitch is having so much fun laughing about it that it’s in the back of their minds. He lets go before Mitch tears out a couch cushion trying to hold on.

Mitch spends more time than usual on his phone that afternoon, taking twice as long to finish dinner because he’s checking his messages. There aren’t even notification sounds to justify all the poking and prodding. Auston gives up trying to start a conversation the second time Mitch ignores him. They split up before bed, Mitch to do God knows what and Auston to take an ice-cold shower.

Before he left for summer, Chucky had an inflatable mattress he used in the basement to justify not having to sleep in his own bed. Now that he’s gone, it’s up for grabs. Mitch was all for it that morning but as the skies dull to a gray and then black, he looks less certain about spending the night sleeping on the floor. They come to the solution of going back up and kicking all the blankets off of their bed, save for one ratty sheet so it still feels like they’re covered. Upstairs or downstairs, it’s going to be hot either way. Best to choose the more comfortable option while they’re at it.

Auston slides under the covers, knees bent to make himself smaller so that the sheet will cover his toes. Mitch lies upright, swiping through his phone. Auston finally has enough and makes a grab for the phone. Mitch lifts it just out of reach.

“What’s up, baby?” Auston says, taking off his glasses to put them on his bedside.

“I was thinking about what my mom sent. About going home.”

Auston snaps his case shut. “Yeah? Are you going to do it?”

“I don’t know. I’d have to arrange transportation and take time off work. It seems like a lot of hassle.”

“Well, she’s your mum. And if driving is a problem then let me take you. It’s only like what, two hours from campus? You’re talking like it’s Arizona.”

Mitch lunges for the words in the middle of the sentence. “You’d take me?”

Without his glasses on, Mitch is just a colourful blob. Auston goes to pat his shoulder and misses. “Of course, no sweat.”

“Well if you’re already driving me, maybe I can ask my mom to let you come over too.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“No, you totally should! We have a pool and everything. Maybe it’d be good for us to take a break, together.” His hand connects with Auston’s.

Auston smiles. “You know I’m not going to turn down swimming.”

Mitch is completely won over. Auston’s stomach flips as he comes to rest their foreheads together. “Of course you’d say that, desert boy.”

They kiss. It’s more like a peck than anything. The length of the kiss isn’t important but Mitch's happy sigh is.

* * *

They head out on Friday evening with two bags full of luggage and a bottle of wine they spent an egregious amount of time shopping for. Despite being their flesh and blood, Mitch couldn’t name even a single drink that his parents liked, so they made an educated guess using the Google results of popular brand choices. Mitch, as always, thought less about taste and instead pointed out all the bottles and containers that had the weirdest colours, usually a concoction of passion fruit or grapefruit mixed in with liquor. 

The ride is pretty typical for the both of them. Mitch has to sit in the back to avoid getting carsick but makes up for it by packing away leftovers to eat on the way there: a bag of preheated and popped popcorn and lunch meat sandwiches. Auston gets to dig into it while Mitch is pumping gas, his restraint almost as bad as his eyesight. Mitch is all too happy to taunt him about it an hour later, when Auston's share is eaten and he still has a whole sandwich left. Although Auston tries to bargain for it, Mitch won't even entertain a single bite. 

By the end of the drive, Auston's lower half is petrified. It might have something to do with Mitch sitting behind him, working the back of the chair with his feet when Auston won’t change the radio station. If Mitch was sitting beside him in the front Auston might have been able to get even with him, but he isn’t, so he puts up with Mitch blowing air on the back of his neck and adjusting the headrest for the full two hours.

The closer they get to their destination the quieter Mitch becomes until Auston has to start checking his mirrors to make sure he’s still back there. He’s not asleep, instead looking out the window at life outside. His parents’ place is in the general vicinity of Toronto but not downtown, meaning they have to put up with Friday lunch hour traffic, extending the drive to about twenty to thirty minutes longer. Shocker, the people downtown look more miserable than they do with the whole heat situation. Even the dogs don’t want to be out.

The neighbourhood the GPS takes them to is something out of a real estate shopping catalogue. It’s a moderate to high middle class street. Mitch points out a house with large french windows in the front. It’s asymmetric, a brown shingled home with many gables on the sides. It’s big, but not too big. A comfortable living size for a family of four.

Mitch assures him that he can park in the empty driveway, so he does. Just as he’s putting the car into park, the front door opens. Out steps a blonde lady, fitting the images of Mitch’s mother that he’s seen. She’s much taller in person.

Mitch gets out of the car first and makes a beeline for the door. Auston’s left behind to navigate his own way out. He has to snap his legs straight for feeling in them to return.

“Oh honey,” she starts to say but Mitch comes in first with the all-encompassing hug. Auston can hear the air leaving her lungs as Mitch presses his body into hers as he walks up. He’s not expecting the same courtesy to be extended to him, but there’s a pair of arms around him regardless.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you.” She pulls back. “Mitch has told us so much.”

“All good things,” Mitch rushes to reassure Auston.

“Do you two need helps with bags? Are they in the trunk?” She’s already walking toward the car, forcing the both of them to play catch-up. She tries and fails to take a bag for herself, with Auston only allowing her to take the gift they got her and her husband as well as a bag of oranges and avocados in Tupperware.

The inside of the house is just as nice as the outside. The fresh smell of baked cookies floods the room. It’s warm, not just in temperature but in colour. You can tell it’s a place that’s been lived in. Blankets are sitting on the backs of slipper chairs, throw pillows sitting on their sides on the many couches. It looks better than if the house had tried to immaculate.

Bonnie Marner leads them to the kitchen after they kick their shoes off. It’s an open kitchen, with an island in the middle and lights hanging overhead. When they pass the stove, it’s wafting heat. The culprit is an oven tray on the island.

The tray has about a dozen misshapen chocolate cookies spreading out. Two are missing. Bonnie must see Auston salivating because she pushes the closest tray toward him, bouncing her eyebrows.

As Auston sinks his teeth into the first of what will probably be many, Mitch starts unloading the plastic containers and stacking them on the marble counters.

“Chris got here first,” Bonnie says. “I’m so sorry, I told him to keep his hands off.”

Mitch stops, turning his side to the side but not looking over his shoulder. “Is he living back here again?”

“For the time being, yes. They had problems with their landlord.”

“Oh. I hadn’t heard.” Mitch’s voice has lost all its volume.

“He should be upstairs, if you want to say hi.”

Mitch hefts the bag handle over his shoulder. “No thanks, I should probably show Auston around first.”

He grabs Auston's hand and shows him where he wants to go, a room at the end of the hall upstairs. There’s a queen-sized bed at the helm with a pattern made up of Canadian hockey teams, both major and minor league. There’s a stuffed moose in the middle of the pillow set. The few decorations on display are everything from travel mementos to Christmas snow globes.

Mitch starfishes out on the bed, making snow angels with the blanket’s wrinkles. When Auston places a hand on his forehead, Mitch croons.

“Can you bring me my suitcase? I want to unpack,” Mitch says.

“Unpack? We just got here.”

“Exactly. You’re so lazy about unpacking.”

Auston makes a show of grabbing his own suitcase, wheeling it over to the empty dresser, and then removing only his boxers and swim shorts to put in the top drawer.

“There,” he says.

Mitch, who’s now resorted to laying on his back, lifts his head up just enough to see Auston. “I meant all of it. And you forgot to bring me mine.”

Auston clicks his tongue. “You’re so lazy about getting up.”

Mitch drops his phone on to the bed. “Oh my god, shut up.”

For a second, Auston is worried that he actually pissed Mitch off. It’s a blink and you’ll miss it moment because seconds later Mitch is popping up like the daisy he is, zipping open his bag so he can use his socks as ammunition to throw at Auston. Ironically, the opposite effect of getting unpacked is achieved because they’re left with a room full of rolled-up socks to collect. Some of the pairs are so generic in appearance they have to put them in a third “undecided owner” pile to sort through later.

At one point, Mitch’s brother, Chris, stops by. He’s a lot more rugged than Auston envisioned, largely because he’s only had Mitch and Bonnie to draw conclusions from. He smiles at Auston and is polite, but doesn’t go above and beyond to make him feel at home. 

“You’re back here?” Mitch asks him.

“Yeah. Thought you’d be happy about it.”

“I am,” Mitch assures him. “Just surprised. I thought you said welding was your calling.”

“It was actually through welding that I got into work as a technician. So it wasn’t entirely wasted.” Chris smacks his lips. “Yep. That’s not why I’m back here though. That’s a whole ‘nother story.”

“I look forward to hearing it.”

Auston lets the two talk for a bit, using the extra time to grab his toiletries and stand them up by the window--he doesn’t want to shoulder his way past Chris right now to take them to the guest bathroom. All that’s left to do is fold his shirts in the bottom drawer, leaving the other half of the space empty for Mitch to use as he pleases.

He’s happy when he hears Bonnie Marner come into the room. She gives him a bit more wiggle room to work with, and gestures for Chris to keep asking Auston questions as opposed to leaving him out of the loop. Chris does as follows: throws in one question about how long they’ve been dating, looks visibly shocked at the answer, and is chased out by Mitch’s upset look. He leaves behind Bonnie, who has both of her arms crossed.

“Did you two get in all right?”

“Yes, mom.”

“Okay, make sure to unpack your clothes before you come down, Mitch.”

Auston has trouble trying not to laugh. Mitch holds a straight face while he’s looking at his mother but when he meets Auston's eyes his friendly nature drains away and it’s back to being war.

Bonnie’s not finished yet. “Oh Mitch, that reminds me, can you set the table?”

Mitch heaves his suitcase up on the dresser. He turns back to his mother, unamused. “We’ve been here, what, ten minutes and you’re already putting us to work? That’s a new record.”

“If I call you down closer to dinner you accuse me of trying to trap you into setting the table for me using food. I figured we should cut to the chase.”

Auston snorts, “she’s not wrong.”

“Okay fine, we’ll get the table,” Mitch rolls off of the bed, landing with a sizeable thump on the floor. Auston goes for the more traditional way of exiting the bed, sauntering over to the door so that he can block the entrance and force Mitch to push him.

They’re all over each other on the stairs but Auston has to fall back and let Mitch show him both the drawer for cutlery and cloth napkins as well as the location of the dining room. Compared to the rest of the rooms in the house, it’s so dark. Light doesn’t touch the table. Mitch works away at folding the napkins while Auston does cutlery. There are not many places at the table and by all accounts, it’s easy work. They adopt a factory model of doing one thing at whatever side they’re on and then working from there.

Auston doesn’t know when, but at some point, he says something that gets a second look from Mitch. It probably has something to do with him making fun of Mitch’s folding skills when the napkins looked like pretzels. It ends in Auston being pelted with the remaining two. The amount of force Mitch would have to exert for cloth of all things to hurt when it hits Auston’s shoulder must be insane, but Mitch manages.

Bonnie hears his pitiful squeal and is on the scene in seconds.

“Hey hey, you two,” she snaps her fingers, “not appropriate. You’re with knives.” Bonnie pulls the cloth napkin Mitch has thrown off the table.

“Mom,” Mitch whines. “I think I can handle a few knives and forks.”

“I’m sure you said something like that after you got Chris in the hand.”

Mitch rolls his eyes. “Oh come on, that was three years ago!”

“What’s that?” Auston asks.

“Nothing.”

“Hey, no. I really want to hear the story,” Auston says. 

Bonnie explains, “Chris was on the other side of the table and asked Mitch to throw the cutlery to him so they wouldn’t have to take the, hm, _ two seconds _ to walk around the table and set it right.”

Mitch holds up a finger. “You’re talking like this is the first time I made a bad decision.”

“I _ know _ you make bad decisions, but that was one of your worst.”

“I think I take the cake for bad knife-related decisions,” Auston buts in, to help take the heat off of Mitch. “My mom tells me that when I was a kid I taught my younger sister how to play darts with the steak knives. We still got the holes in our walls.”

Mitch’s mouth is wide open. Auston’s hand reaches over to shut it for him in what he tries to pass off as a kind gesture. Bonnie won’t stop looking at them like they’re the sun, the sky, and her whole entire world.

“You two are too much. Thank you for setting the table _ properly_.” She eyes Mitch particularly hard. “Dinner will be in about twenty.”

“So come down in thirty?”

Bonnie shakes her head. “Sure, let’s say thirty.”

Just as they’re heading up the stairs, Chris comes down. He’s in a jacket that’s so muddy the brand name is a mish-mash of dirty white and navy colours. He’s pulling up his socks, passing Bonnie as she straightens out the table.

“Hey Mom,” Chris says, ducking his head into the dining room. “I’m going to be out for dinner.”

“What, why?”

Mitch stops climbing the stairs, leading to Auston smacking into his back. They're half-way up the stairs but still in view of the archway that connects the seating room to the kitchen and dining room.

“I got called in.”

“But Mitch is home tonight. It’s a family dinner. You said you’d be here.”

“I don’t control my schedule. I’m sorry.” He kisses her on the cheek. “I’ll be home by seven. It’s not going to take long.”

“Well have you already eaten?”

“I was thinking about just grabbing something on the way there.”

“Chris, we have food in the house. You need to stop spending money on fast food.”

Chris waves his hand. “I don’t have time for this. I’ll see you tonight. Sorry.”

Chris makes his way over to the shoe rack. To the right of the sandals and running shoes are two knee-high rubber boots. Without much care, Chris shoves his feet into them, slinging the bag resting on the ottoman over his shoulder before unlocking the door.

Auston’s about to continue walking up when Mitch steps away. He walks back down the stairs to meet his mother where she’s standing, watching the door close behind her son as he leaves.

“Mom,” he taps her cheek. She looks at him. “You okay?”

She feigns a weak smile. Somehow, it only makes her face all the more sad. “I wanted this dinner to be special for you.”

“It _is_ special mom, I’m home.” He gives her a small half hug. When it does nothing to calm her posture, Mitch steps back.

“He should’ve asked.” She throws the dishtowel over her shoulder. “He’s always out doing something without telling me first.”

“Should he have to though?”

“I don’t care what he does on his time but he’s got to get some kind of working schedule to give me. I can’t keep up with him and his friends. I don’t even know if he’s working half the time.” She starts walking away before finishing the sentence, leaving Mitch estranged downstairs.

Auston goes down to collect him, grabbing him by the arm. “Come on, let’s go.”

Mitch watches his mother for a second and then relents, letting Auston pull him to the sanctity of his room. He’s still quiet when Auston throws blankets on him, only really calming down once he’s got his phone out of his pocket and into his hands. 

They go down in twenty-five minutes, just as Bonnie’s starting to plate the food she’s made. She does request their help, not to set the table but to help carry in the bowls and glasses. She makes Auston wear an oven mitt to handle the hot items, whispering into his ear that she: “no longer trusts Mitch after dropping gravy and cheese curds all over her tile floors.”

Paul is already seated, his iPad propped up on his knee. He’s not wearing headphones and Auston can hear a play-by-play of what must be baseball or another recreational sport. Just as Bonnie’s helping Mitch set down the salad tongs, showing him how to toss the ingredients together, Paul looks up. He’s focusing on the seat opposing Mitch’s.

“Where’s Chris?”

“Out,” Bonnie replies.

“Again?”

“He didn’t say why.”

Paul looks like he’s ready to say more but Bonnie’s objective of getting both Mitch and Auston to sit down overrides any oncoming discussion. Back at his home, they would have to go around the table and wait for every member of the family to say grace. Having nothing to say before they eat has both its advantages and disadvantages, the latter being that there’s now an empty void at the dinner table, with only the bang of knives on dishes to fill it.

The food spread is nice. With how many pots and pans he heard slamming in the kitchen his baseline assumption was that they would be eating like royalty. What’s in front of them is more modest-looking: mashed potatoes not made from instant pouches and a large ceramic bowl of Caesar salad he piles on the left side of his plate. The roast chicken is the centrepiece, with a sampling of gravy kept beside the plate in a boat.

Mitch is the chaotic eater as always, making his own garbage plate using a sampling of everything on the table ranging from serving bread to the croutons meant for the salad. The finishing touches involve drizzling a good half of the gravy on everything, something his father looks at with a touch of disappointment--the light-hearted kind. Auston can’t do that and never will; nothing on his plate can touch each other or the flavour is contaminated. 

“How is half of your plate already gone?” Auston asks. He’s barely made a dent in the potatoes and Mitch is vacuuming down the side salad.

“Amazon Prime delivery to my belly.” He then makes a show of slapping his stomach. “And I’m just hungry, dude.”

Bonnie clicks her tongue. She clears her throat. “Shoot, that reminds me. I forgot to go get the mail today.”

Paul stops her there. “I did, they were all envelopes for Chris. He said he had shit to sign so I didn’t touch them.”

“I swear, I never thought I’d be sad to have no letters addressed to me,” Bonnie laughs to herself, “at least none from the government.”

“Did you end up hearing back from Don yet about the position?” Paul says around a mouthful of food. He flexes his fingers at the bowl of mashed potatoes. Auston picks it up for him so that he doesn’t have to reach, getting a mumbled thanks in return.

Bonnie stops chewing. When she resumes, she waits until her mouth is empty to answer. “Why don’t we just stick to dinner talk?” 

Mitch presses a smile into his cheeks. “I thought you were already working for him.”

“It was never anything concrete, dear. But I’m fine, I’m still looking around.” Her face lights up. “Maybe I’ll go back to school with you too. I miss the old party days.”

Auston forces a laugh. “Mitch and I aren’t the party kind.”

Bonnie dabs at her face with her serving napkin to get the gravy off of her face. “You don’t have to lie to me.” She rolls her eyes at Mitch’s protest. “And I will say, stressful as it is, I don’t have to do any job interviews. Thank goodness.”

Paul gets up to refill his glass using the refrigerator's water filter. Mitch is spinning around the carrots on his plate with the prongs of his fork and won’t look at anyone.

“Funny story,” Mitch says, “I actually met Auston through a joint interview. Probably the best interview I’ve ever done.” Before he’s even finished talking Auston is smiling.

“I thought you said you met through hockey?” Bonnie asks.

“We did, kinda. We were called in along with what, four other people?” Mitch looks at Auston for clarification.

“I think it was closer to six,” Auston says.

“Six, not counting us, for some bookstore down the block. They were asking us what our hobbies were and then the person next to you had to find something in the store they’d like, to test our customer service skills. And when Auston said he was a Coyotes fan, I got an idea. So I brought him this book. Something about how sucky teams in the league were actually great and they could make a big comeback someday. And when I was handing it to him I said, ‘I hope you’re--“

“--just as much into losing your life to hockey as I am,” Auston finishes for him.

Mitch’s hand drops from the table, taking Auston’s and squeezing it. “Neither of us ended up getting the job but that’s how we found out we were both such big hockey fans. Auston plays for the university team.”

“Oh do you, Auston?” Paul reenters the scene with a full glass of water. “I took you more for the baseball type.”

“No sir, it’s hockey. I wanted to play in the big leagues when I was growing up but school came first.”

“But you can still do it?”

Auston tries to pass it off like it hasn’t been the question keeping his eyes open when he’s trying to fall asleep. “I guess. I’d be a bit behind everyone else.”

“Behind is better than not at all, right Mitch?”

“Dad.” Mitch’s voice loses all its sensibility. It begins to become strained, his vowels twanging when they leave his mouth.

“What? You keep saying you can’t do it but you could if you really tried.”

“You know I can’t with my leg.”

“Hun, maybe we should move on,” Bonnie suggests. 

Auston can’t talk or move. He hopes that if he stays still long enough the danger will blow over and he can finish the last portion of potatoes on his plate. Even though it has little to do with him, it feels like he’s wandered where he isn’t allowed. He rubs at his eye with one finger, using his other hand to shovel lettuce in his mouth. 

Mitch takes his plate from him before he can lick it clean, disappearing into the kitchen. Auston’s now the only one at the table. Everything looks so perfect: the small glass chandelier that looks down on the table bathes the room in a golden glow and the linen runner and placemats that look like some Wayfair collection piece. Rather than sit back and relax, he opts to get out of there as soon as possible.

Auston’s heart is constricting in his chest when he sees Mitch's whipped puppy look. Without a smile on his face, he doesn’t even look like the same person. He's scraping the leftovers into the compost bin without saying a word to anyone, despite there being two other people in the kitchen with him.

Auston’s chin lands on Mitch’s shoulder. “You know what we should do? Go for a swim.”

“That’s a wonderful idea,” Bonnie chips in. “I can put a pie in the oven for later.”

Mitch turns his head to look over his shoulder at Auston, as much as his neck will allow. “Aren’t you like, not supposed to swim the first thirty minutes after eating?”

“So we’ll do something else for thirty minutes.”

“Like the dishes?” Bonnie asks.

That’s exactly what they end up doing. It ends up being a more tedious process than expected because Paul’s still eating his dessert and Bonnie keeps finding utensils that need to be washed, so the stack never really goes down. It could be worse though, he could be Mitch, who’s stuck washing. Auston can tell whenever his hands touch a soapy food particle because his squeamish face comes out, both rows of big teeth on display. Auston does his best to get him to laugh as much as he can, unsure if he has the ability to tackle whatever happened at the table. He's pretty sure Mitch doesn't want to talk about it either.

After playing with water for the last thirty minutes, going swimming doesn’t sound as tempting as it did sitting around the stuffy dinner table, but he’s committed to his decision. So much so that he decides to be the first one to cannonball into the not-heated pool and be at the mercy of the water temperature. Mitch is a lot more careful. He sits on the ladder in the deep end and bides his time, a plan that’s foiled by Auston grabbing him by both ankles underwater and pulling him down.

Mitch already looks so much better. Seems like whacking Auston over the head with a pool noodle is therapeutic for him, which is more than could be said for Auston himself. Still, there’s a hesitation that comes with everything he does. Every once in a while, he’ll look back at the sliding glass door, as if anticipating someone’s going to come out.

Someone does come out later in the evening and it’s not Paul or Bonnie, but Chris. He’s only wearing swim trunks and makes his way down to the shallow end, in his own little world. Only once he’s up to his waist in water does he wave at them.

“Water’s nice,” he says. Auston nods at him to show he’s heard. Mitch is lounging on a pool floaty and swipes his fingers in the water in what must be some secret signal.

They’re all sharing the water but no one’s talking to each other. At one point Chris leaves and comes back with a beer. He sits on the shallow water steps and begins texting a friend, making goo-goo eyes at whatever person’s on the other end.

“Hey Mitch,” he raises his voice in the middle of a splash fight, eyes still on the phone, “why is dad talking about hockey again?”

“He’s what now?” Mitch says, one eyebrow crooked.

Chris puts his phone down, dangerously close to the ledge. It’s giving Auston anxiety just looking at it. “I don’t know. Just started talking about it again. It’s annoying.”

“That’s my fault,” Auston says. 

He lets his guard down for a minute and water ends up in his face. He’s oh-so tempted to turn around and discipline Mitch but Chris looks like he’s waiting for an answer.

“He kinda found out that I’m playing for our university team. That’s all.”

Both of Chris’ shoulders droop. He kicks up water with his feet. “Well, heed my advice, don’t get him going or he’ll never shut up.”

“Will do,” Auston says. He turns back to give Mitch his full attention. When he finally gets a gander at what Mitch is doing, he sees that the happy look has faded.

He actually looks pretty damn angry. He elbows by Auston to look Chris in the eyes.

“Is that why you came out here, just to snap at Auston?”

Chris blows air out of his nostrils. “Am I not allowed to enjoy our own pool?” Without waiting to hear what Mitch has to say to him, he stands and exits the pool, returning for just a second to grab his phone and empty beer bottle. Mitch watches him the whole time, the water slapping his arms from the waves he’s made.

Auston has two sisters and always thought they were worse than if he’d had an older brother. Now that he sees what these two are up to, he changes his mind. There’s no scrappy fights or races to get the last word in; all of their arguments are short and chock full of microaggressions. By the time you realize what’s been said the fuse has blown out.

“I’m sorry,” Auston says to Mitch.

“It’s not your fault, he’s just being an ass again.” Mitch swims out to the ladder and climbs out. At first, Auston thinks he’s just going to jump back in and forget the whole ordeal but then he’s picking up his towel and drying his legs. 

It’s an unexpected end to what started out as a fun night. There’s no sense in swimming alone so by association Auston has to get out too. He tries not to let his frustration show on his face. All he’d like is a few minutes with Mitch where someone isn’t trying to take another person’s left leg.

Luckily for both of them, dessert goes over without another heated confrontation. They’re allowed to get a good serving of hot apple pie and vanilla ice cream without having to look over their shoulders. Whatever transpired in the house when Mitch and Auston were outside seems to have cut the tension in two.

There are reruns of a house-hunter show on television and the whole family, minus Chris, bunkers down to watch together. The appeal is for the background noise. Auston isn’t actually paying attention, he’s tracing the ridges made by Mitch’s bones. He’s sated and warm, with a smiley boy in his arms making cute noises. Bonnie’s reading on the opposing couch and Paul is in the armchair, asleep. Auston can get away with resting his hand on Mitch’s ass.

All is quiet until they go up to bed. Then it becomes _ too _ quiet. They’re going to bed earlier than usual which means Mitch is usually bouncing off the walls. By all accounts, Auston expects all hell to break loose once they’re upstairs, only to find his boyfriend is as subdued as he was downstairs if not more so.

Mitch is hiding under the covers. Auston can tell because when he tries to pull the blankets back so that he can fit, they stay in place. There’s a distinctive wedge pattern where the cloth is being held in the grip of Mitch’s hand.

“Everything okay down there?” Auston asks.

“I’m fine,” Mitch says with little to no heart.

Using his full strength, Auston yanks the covers up. There’s no swollen eyes, chubby cheeks, and red flush but Mitch still looks miserable. Auston seats himself beside him, patting his shoulder.

“C’mon, what’s up. You’re not your usual Mitch-y self.”

Auston helps Mitch up on the backs of his hands, his head leaning to one side. Mitch’s entire face is wobbling, now the consistency of raw batter. Auston can see him mulling over what Auston said and what he's probably about to say to him. Auston waits for him to collect his thoughts.

“I told you about my mom, right?” Mitch says eventually. He pushes his hair back with one hand to keep it out of his eyes.

“Told me what?”

“She got laid off in December, Matts.”

Auston sucks air in through his teeth. “Oh yeah, I remember you saying that before you left for holidays.”

“It was _ awful _ and she’s still having trouble finding work. She told me a month ago she had a place but I guess not.”

Auston crosses his legs. “Well, it sounds like she’s putting herself out there. That’s always a good start.”

“It’s more than that. I still don’t know if she’s smoothed things over with dad yet.”

Auston lowers his voice. “Was it bad?”

“I don’t think you could call any kind of arguing good. It was scary.”

“Parents fight.”

“I don’t know if I just don’t remember it or if it even happened at all but they were fine before. I’ve never heard mom yell like that. If it’s been that long since she’s held work--”

“But you’re okay financially?”

“Yeah. She got severance, we have savings. It’s not what it did to us financially, it’s what it did to us as a family.”

Auston’s about to swoop in and comfort him but Mitch raises his hand to stop him.

“And no, I don’t want to talk about it or anything. Let's just go to sleep.”

“You sure?” he double checks.

“Positive.” 

“Alright.” 

Auston really wants to ask Mitch about his leg. Mitch had told him that he stopped playing hockey a while ago but the reasons were always school-related: about having no time for recreational sports when he had prerequisite courses to cram for. An injury is something very different. You don’t get a choice when you get injured; either you’re cleared to play or you’re not.

“You know,” Mitch says when the lights are turned out. “You’re not very presumptuous.” For how long they’ve been under the blankets he sounds much too awake.

“Do you want me to be?” he asks, half-asleep. His words slur together.

“No, I like it.” Auston feels the gentle contact of Mitch’s lips on the back of his neck. “Goodnight, babe.”

* * *

He wakes up the next morning feeling groggy. The pillow beside him is lacking a certain bedhead and someone’s opened the window, inviting all the heat inside. Auston drags his fingers down his face, collecting the sweat on his brow. It’s such a chore to roll over, he can’t imagine getting out of bed. The mattresses here are better than anything they have at home.

Mitch comes back to the room fully dressed. He’s in his frat-looking attire, a plain shirt and those ripped shorts he can’t keep his hands off of. The backwards cap isn’t even the focus of Auston’s worries right now.

“You’re wearing your ripped jorts? Talk about making a bad first impression.”

Mitch looks down at his mess of a lower half. “They’re my family, there isn’t a first impression to make.”

“Oh yes there is. They see you in those today and think to themselves, ‘wow, it only took one day for Auston to let him wear those. What a quitter.’”

Mitch smacks him with the pillow. “I’m pretty sure your life purpose isn’t to decide whether or not I can wear jorts.”

“_Ripped _ jorts,” Auston corrects him.

“Get dressed, mom’s making us pancakes.” His eyebrows slant down. “God, you need to shave.”

“You making fun of my hairy chest?” In response, Mitch laughs and runs off. 

When Auston rolls over he can see his phone missing from the night table, another victim of Mitch’s early bird tendencies. Auston still doesn’t know how someone who got less sleep than him can bother waking up an hour or two earlier. Since using his phone to procrastinate it not an option, he gets out of bed earlier than usual.

He finds his phone downstairs and on the kitchen counter. Bonnie’s got the skillet pan out and the surfaces of the pancakes are a pale, uncooked colour. Two finished pancakes are put aside with strawberries on top.

“Good morning Auston,” Bonnie says, smiling at him. “What do you like on your pancakes?”

“Good morning,” he replies back. “And uh, I’ll just have them as is.”

Mitch comes up behind him, hugging him. “You can say chocolate chips, it’s fine.”

Chocolate chips sound nice. Not perfect, but nice. “Sure, let’s do that.”

Bonnie turns back to her cooking instruments, grabbing the plastic bag of made-to-bake chocolate chips and sprinkling them on the disk of pancake batter. Mitch keeps himself busy with pouring Auston a glass of orange juice and himself a glass of apple juice. Back at their rented place, they don't buy orange juice with the pulp but here, it takes one sip to register the waxy lumps in his juice. Auston smacks his lips to clean them of the taste.

Paul gets the two already-made pancakes while Mitch and Auston share the last batch. Trying to decipher what it is that’s been baked into Mitch’s pancakes is a losing battle. He knows for a fact that there are chocolate chips in there but there are also pieces of red and blue visible from the sides and top. The whipped cream doesn’t help matters. They’ve been on a strict diet of cereal for the last two weeks in terms of breakfast, so it's a welcome change to have pancakes to wake up to.

They finish up, dump the plates in the sink to soak, and then Auston gets changed into day clothes with the help of Mitch, who's trying to get back at him for the jorts comment. 

Mitch takes control of the blender and starts throwing fruit at it. He has Auston try at least three different flavours he makes up on the spot, each one somehow more chaotic than the last. They take up refuge with their drinks by the television, since the rest of the family is enjoying the outdoors. And when it stops being fun watching children’s cartoons meant for people half their age, Mitch invites him out to the volleyball court they set up in the backyard.

It’s not even peak hours and Auston’s already getting blasted with hot air at every turn. The court doesn’t have shade from trees to hide in, meaning they’re in direct sunlight. Whatever they’re playing is less of a volleyball gave and more a game of extreme catch. Bonnie even calls it as such from her lawn chair. As such, they get bored of it before noon. It did do what it was supposed to though, as they’ve eaten up an hour just fooling around. That long without being on their phones texting something suggestive to the other is a new record.

For lunch, Paul is on the barbeque grilling burgers and hot dogs. Mitch is wearing Bonnie’s straw sun hat, with sunglasses too big for his face resting on his ears. He beckons Auston over, holding a bottle of sunscreen in one hand, one with bright pink packaging down one side.

“I thought that maybe after this we could go for a walk to the shopping centre,” Mitch says. He widens his legs so that Auston can sit in between them, then begins squeezing out globs of sunscreen on his hand. The first touch of it on his skin is cold.

He spreads it all over Auston’s back and face, then his ears and arms. He takes his time, rubbing the lotion in until the white disappears.

“I’d love to go for a walk,” Auston says. It’s one of those rare occasions where it’s hot outside but cooled by the breeze. It picks up just enough to make dresses fly out and kites glide.

When the food is cooked they form a semicircle around the barbeque. Being the guest, Auston gets the first patty. That doesn’t stop Mitch from holding the ketchup hostage until Auston lets him draw a smiley face with the ketchup and mustard. Mitch shows him the art of melting cheese on his own patty and then lifting it up from the grill and onto the sesame seed bun. When it comes to food and affection, Mitch comes with a certain perfectionist quality Auston can’t help but admire. 

Someone cranks the radio loud and Bonnie brings out a pitcher of lemonade and a tray of chips. Mitch has to go inside before eating to clean his hands of sunscreen but comes back in such a rush he almost knocks the chair Auston’s sitting in over. Since sitting in your boyfriend’s lap isn’t what Auston would call appropriate for a family gathering, Mitch is forced by circumstance to take the chair beside him.

Paul sits down on the pool chair just across from them with his own paper plate and burger. The noise he makes when he sits combined with him favouring the one leg draws questions from Auston’s mind that he can’t ask.

Instead, he goes with the easy, “the burgers are great, sir.”

“Oh good,” Paul replies. 

Mitch squints from under his sunglasses. “Yeah, thanks, Dad. They’re great.”

“Stupid thing tried to quit on me halfway. Was expecting burnt crisps.” 

It’s not something you can reply to on a whim, so Auston doesn’t. As Bonnie’s walking by, she pats her husband’s shoulder. It’s something Mitch likes to do a lot to Auston during exam season when their noses are shoved in books. 

It brings up images of them twenty years down the line in some domestic setting, thoughts Auston tries to purge before he’s falling asleep at night so he won’t get his hopes up. 

They’re just about finishing their food, Mitch more so than him, when Paul takes one of the salt and vinegar chips lining the side of his plate and looks Auston in the eye. “So Auston, what are your plans for going ahead with hockey?” Paul asks.

“He doesn’t want to talk about it, dad,” Mitch answers for him. Now Auston can understand why Chris was so on edge about hockey being brought into the house.

Clearly, Paul doesn’t feel the same. “What makes you say that?”

“Because you’re always so pushy.”

“Watch yourself,” Paul warns him. Auston’s got a big, ugly spotlight on him again.

Mitch doesn’t speak but the disdain is there. They’re both trying to piss off the other without having it fuse into words. 

Auston excuses himself for a well-timed bathroom break inside. He does actually have to go, but prolongs it by washing his hands with all three hand soaps on display. Between this and the dish washing and pool swimming, his hands are going to be abnormally dry by Tuesday at the latest.

He comes out to a full-blown argument and now Bonnie’s gotten involved. It’s way more than Auston anticipated it being when he left. He doesn’t even know where to begin. 

When Mitch hears him come out, he ends it prematurely. He grabs Auston’s jean jacket. “Walk, now.”

Auston waves both of Mitch’s parents goodbye before he’s pulled out the back gate. They hike up the hill the neighbourhood is on. The roads are built in interconnecting fashion, meaning you could cross up and down the streets, in seconds ending up in the gated community--a castle on the hill kind of deal. Mitch was fortunate enoughto be wearing a hat when he stormed off, Auston was not. His white shirt is almost see-through with sweat. Normally that’d be something Mitch would make a joke out of, but he’s not looking at him. He’s not even looking ahead. Twice, he almost crosses the road when a car is trying to make a right turn: oblivious. But Auston loves him too much to call him out on it. 

As far as walks go, it’s nothing too long. It’s lengthy enough to have them panting in the hot sun but not enough to get them dehydrated. With how Mitch was reacting to Paul, Auston expected the worst: that they’d be running around in circles for over an hour. 

Bonnie’s sweeping in the hall when they enter. She looks up but says nothing. Nothing to Mitch, at least.

“Do you want a glass of water?” she asks Auston, who out of respect for Mitch, declines. If there’s bad blood between them now, any kind gesture he accepts from Bonnie will make it seem like he’s choosing sides.

Upstairs, Mitch directs all of his attention to his computer and leaves none for Auston. So consumed are his thoughts by the events that took place, Mitch is blind to the world around him. He keeps losing his balance and toppling over to the side when the weight distribution on the bed changes because of Auston’s adjustments.

Their quiet time, if you can even call it that, is short-lived. There are two hard knocks on the door. Their volume manages to reach Mitch, even with his headphones on.

“We’re busy,” Mitch calls out. It doesn’t exactly cast them in a positive light. Now the rest of the family’s going to think they’re making out.

“What did you say to mom?” Chris says through the door.

Auston’s jolted out of whatever comfort he was able to find. Mitch is unphased.

“I didn’t say anything to her, ask Dad.”

Chris’s backs out without another word.

“Can’t anyone in this fucking family give me a break? God. They’re always around,” Mitch mutters. He slams his computer closed, standing up to put it on the dresser where the pile of socks now rest. He returns to the bed just as fast.

Mitch is so riled up that his whole face is squished together. Auston’s not sure what he can do to help besides just loving the problem away.

“Hey, come up here.” Mitch doesn’t respond. Auston resorts to leaning forward, looping his hands around Mitch’s waist, pulling him back. Mitch ends up with his back to Auston’s chest, Auston’s hands coming dangerously close to his armpits.

“Ow,” Mitch complains.

“Shush. I need my daily cuddle.”

“If you say so.” He relaxes in Auston’s arms, just a touch. 

They don’t mean to fall asleep, but with all the heat and smell of cooked meat in the air, it’s an inevitability. Mitch uses Auston’s chest as a cushion, rolling over onto his stomach and then going limp. Auston stays on his back, looking up at the pale yellow ceiling. He has no idea when he falls asleep, but he can toss a wild guess into the mix by the positioning of the sun rays on the bed when he wakes up. 

Mitch has fallen off of his stomach in his sleep and landed beside him, twitching. Auston throws the cover over him. The late afternoon sun paints his face every colour. Long shadows stretch down his face.

Auston shakes him awake. “Hey, Mitchy.”

“Mm,” Mitch babbles. He tries to buy time but Auston knows him better than most. He knows when Mitch is just pretending to be sleep-weak to clock a few extra minutes.

In the end, Auston lets him sleep a while longer. He looks like he needs it, especially after last night. He busies himself with going down the rabbit hole of Youtube video recommendations that pop up on his feed, Reddit open in another tab. He can entertain himself with that for hours.

Mitch comes to probably about an hour later, as a rough estimate. Auston wouldn’t know for sure. One minute Mitch is out like a light and the next, he’s scrolling through his phone, hair sprawled out on his pillow. Because he’s saying nothing, it’s hard to know for sure.

That safety-netting of a room keeps them in for a long time. Auston only leaves once to use the bathroom but doesn’t even try going downstairs for a drink or two. He doesn’t want to run the chance of seeing Bonnie in whatever state she’s in. 

At around four in the afternoon, the smell of cooked food begins to rise. It continues for another half an hour before Mitch’s growling stomach answers.

“I guess we should go down,” Mitch says. That’s the all-clear sign Auston needs. He hasn’t exactly been bored to tears yet but he might not have agreed to come all this way for a holiday if it meant spending all of his time indoors, something he was already doing back at home.

Bonnie sees them coming down the stairs and tucks her apron in. Auston slows down enough to let Mitch pass him. He follows Mitch into the kitchen, waiting for an assessment of what’s appropriate to say and do.

“Hey, darling. I’m sorry about earlier,” Bonnie says. “You hungry?”

“Yeah,” Mitch says. “I’m sorry too.”

“We shouldn’t have pushed.” She wipes her butterknife on the edge of the bowl to get rid of the globs hanging on the blade. “And what about you, Auston? You doing okay?”

“Just fine. We had a short nap.”

Bonne hides her smile in the collar of her shirt. “I saw. Dinner will be ready in a minute. You can go sit down, if you want.”

Mitch takes Auston by the wrist, gently. He opens his mouth to say something.

“Bonnie!” Paul’s voice carries down the corridors, bouncing on the stairs.

Bonnie stops from where she’s scooping out boiled carrots. She places her spatula down.

“Oh, one second, hun,” she calls up. “Sorry Mitch, but can you plate these? I need to help your father down the stairs.” She hands Mitch the spatula and the handle of the steaming pot.

Auston races to volunteer. “I can help him if you want.” It feels unfair that everyone in the household should have to do work except him, even if he doesn't know what he's signing up for here.

“That’s very kind of you, but I should--“

“You should focus on dinner, it’s no problem,” Auston says.

“I’ll get him,” Chris says. He drops his hand into the bowl of croutons, throws two into his mouth, then dodges all three of them as he heads up the stairs. Even with the music filling the room, Auston can hear Paul’s grunting and complaining. Chris has put aside his reservations and is quiet. Auston didn't even know Chris was in the kitchen with them in the first place.

Auston at least gets to help with bringing the plates and condiments to the table. Being put to work helps take his mind off of the nervous energy kicking around in his gut. 

Paul sits down at the head of the table and the remainder of the family surrounds him. At first, no one reaches for additional food. It’s a standoff of very small proportions.

Eventually, Paul lifts his mug in the air. “Before we eat: how about a toast to summer?”

“To summer,” Chris says. “And hopefully the rain we’re going to get tomorrow.”

“Hallelujah,” Bonnie says. She leans in with her wine glass and with his interests of playing guest at heart, Auston taps his glass against her’s. He does so for everyone at the table who is in reach, Mitch included.

Dinner goes over without any bumps. There’s one point when Paul swears because Chris chips the butter dish when he’s trying to pass it, but it’s nothing big. Since Chris takes over dishes right after, it also means Mitch and Auston can get a bit of a break. It's not a 'let's hide out in the bedroom' sort of deal either. Bonnie gives them the address of an ice cream parlour about ten minutes away. It’s a gourmet shop that does nothing cheap, but he figures they’re worth it.

Mitch already looks so much happier to be out of the house. He gets to press his cheek up against the glass and admire the swirling colours and shapes, trying to decide what the flavour of the day will be for him.

Auston’s old-fashioned and goes for chocolate cookie dough. Mitch airs on the creative side, picking out cotton candy. Auston even lets him pile on toppings, like Mitch already doesn’t consume a daily average of an entire potato sack of sugar. They’re quick enough to snag a table outside with an umbrella, overlooking the parking lot and other shops. There’s a tangy smell in the air from the Taiwanese restaurant next door, serving happy patrons by the dozen, and a few doors down is a pet shop. Mitch gets the chair that’s facing in that direction and takes twice as long finishing his ice cream because he keeps pointing out dogs that are walking in and out.

This is what Auston envisioned when Mitch was talking about a nice summer vacation up north. No worries, no busybodies, and no stress. They stay there longer than most patrons, adding on another thirty minutes so that they can explore the bookstore and grab an iced-coffee at Tims. By the time they’re riding home, it’s beginning to get dark.

They swap their sneakers for flip flops and go hang by the pool. Mitch makes some excuse about wanting to see the moon, like the balcony just outside his room doesn’t already give them a perfect view, but it’s not like Auston’s going to point that out. So outside they go, to speculate under firefly light.

Steam is rising from the pool. At the moment, all they’re doing is dangling their feet in the water, splashing around. The reflection of the lights casts Mitch’s feet in a blue light. Mitch’s face is contoured by licks of teal. He just looks so sad.

“This is my fault, I’m sorry,” Mitch says. “I knew it’d be like this and yet I tried to tell myself it couldn’t.”

“Pardon?” Auston wasn’t paying attention so he missed about half of it. It takes him a second to backtrack, but Mitch is already repeating himself.

“My family. I’m sorry it’s so hostile right now.”

Auston moves his feet from where they’re resting by the jets. He uses his right foot to touch Mitch’s left. “How could you have known?”

“That’s the problem, I did know. You think I haven’t been on the receiving end of dad’s long rants every once in a while? That I don’t know my mom’s been trying to go back to school? Hell, I’ve known about Chris hating me for the last decade.” He laughs, a cruel, crooked sounding thing.

“Chris doesn’t hate you. Don’t say that.”

Mitch’s back straightens. He’s at the same eye level as Auston and uses it to his advantage, moving forward. His eyes shine like stars because of the pool’s underwater lighting, his irises glowing.

“I know the first thing you want to say is that I’m wrong but trust me, I know what I’m talking about.”

Auston’s first response is to balk. “Hate is still a very strong word.”

“Then fine, maybe not hate but something. Dad’s not helping.”

Auston takes him by the arm, pulling Mitch into his chest where he can hide.

“I’m not going to pretend my own life is peachy keen back at home but they’re still your family,” Auston says. They always had problems but on a completely different surface level. Here, everything is laid out in the open. It’s like the family stopped trying to be something they weren’t.

“I know but this isn’t a problem you can love away.”

“I know, baby. I know.”

Mitch stays in his arms for a bit. Auston tries to size himself up and create a little home for Mitch to hide in. His arms block out the light stemming from the porch. Inside Auston’s arms, the only semblance of life comes from the two bodies that make up the space. 

Bonnie comes by eventually to invite them inside for popcorn and ginger ale, an offer that Mitch refuses. Auston takes a bowl of popcorn with him because he knows Mitch will want to munch on it later; he’s prisoner to his stomach. They set up camp upstairs. Mitch pulls up Netflix on his computer with the intent of finding a new series to binge. They’ve just finished their last one.

But even with all the dancing colours and visuals on screen, Mitch’s mood doesn’t improve. The confession didn’t lift any worries off of his bad, just made them visible. And in a way, that’s even worse. He won’t stop looking at Auston like he’s ashamed. It’s beyond them both now.

This comes just after two days. Auston can’t imagine more. He doesn’t want to know what Mitch looks like when it’s all coming down, when words with too much spite attached get tossed at the wrong people. He hasn’t been there. He doesn’t want to.

And that’s when the light bulb turns on.

“Hey, you wanna just go back to our house?” Auston says. He’s not even looking at Mitch when he says it.

Mitch pauses, taking his fingers off of the touchpad. “What?”

Auston looks at him. “Think about it: Chucky and Dylan are gone. We have the place to ourselves. Let’s just go fucking nuts. Order-in, maybe go see a movie. We could even check out that new water park downtown if there’s enough time.”

The shock dawns on Mitch’s face.“You mean like, just leave?”

“Yeah. Why the hell not.”

He expects sobbing, maybe screaming. After having all of that and the kitchen sink this weekend, it’s not out of the realm of expectation. But Mitch handles it well. He looks at the door. His fingers are drumming on the edge of the night table where his phone sits, charging.

“Mom’s going to be so upset,” Mitch says, his voice distant in more ways than one. And with that, Auston can only imagine how many times he’s thought about this, already, since getting here.

“And that’s all right,” Auston assures him, “but her happiness shouldn’t come at your expense.”

“It sounds so mean when you say it like that.”

“Yeah, that came out wrong. But if you know you’re miserable when you’re here then maybe just...don’t.”

Mitch looks back at him. “What a wordsmith you are.”

“I try.”

Mitch is cracking jokes. That’s a good sign.

Auston offers his arms as a place to find shelter but Mitch knocks them away. He situates himself in Auston’s lap, wrapping both of his arms and legs around him. He’s latched on like a spider. Auston’s hands are left reaching out for a body that isn’t there anymore.

Spoken into his skin, faint and wispy, are the words, “thank you.”

* * *

The next days goes on like nothing has changed. He’s counting on Mitch to break the news in a way that won’t break his family’s heart. So, when Auston wakes up and the other side of the bed is empty again, he really doesn’t know what to expect going downstairs. He doesn’t think he could look such a sweet woman in the eyes and not feel like she's angry at him for trying to take her son away.

When he comes down, there hasn’t been a visible fight. Everything is in its place. The jar lids are slanted, the hairs on the corner of the floor rugs frayed, and the couch cushions just a pinch diagonal. The kitchen and living room are empty. That’s strange. Usually, Paul is in his armchair, asleep or watching old sitcoms from the 80s. He waits around for a while, helping himself to the tiny donuts still in their plastic packaging and a glass of apple juice. He waits to hear Mitch’s laughter. He’s become so codependent it’s hard to imagine not waking up to it, but here he is.

He jolts out of his seat when the front door budges. He peers around the corner, waiting to see the familiar head of brown hair, but gets a blonde instead. Bonnie makes eye contact almost immediately, and it’d be rude to not give her a cordial greeting.

He mucks up as much carefree attitude as he can manage and forces it into his voice. “Hey, Bonnie.”

“Hey!” She’s using her playful voice again. “I know it’s rude to ask but would you be a dear and help me with these?” She lifts up the bags she’s carrying in her arms. 

“Oh, yeah of course.” He runs up and takes the first reusable bag from her. “Where’s Mitch?”

“He went out for a drive with Chris. No idea when he’ll be back, sorry.”

“It’s no problem.”

“I swear, I need to put a tracker in Chris’ shoe.” She continues walking all the way to the kitchen. “He runs off at the most insane hours of the day, I can’t keep track.”

“My mom was always saying that about my sister.”

“You have a sister? Oh, put those there.” She points with her free hand at the empty space on the counter.

“I have two,” Auston says. 

Bonnie groans. She leans back on the island, one hand over her forehead. “I feel like such a terrible host. I should know that by now.”

“I didn’t tell you,” he says.

“I know but,” she drops her hand, “I’m a mother. I’m Mitch’s mother. He got his snooping from somebody, you know.”

“Trust me, ma’am, it’s fine. There’s not that much to know about me anyway.”

He begins helping her put away the groceries in the fridge, removing the individual bags of milk from the plastic baggie and placing them in the lower drawer. Bonnie’s organizational skills are something they need; as it is, their own fridge is a collage of the whole food pyramid, drawers reserved only for what will fit inside.

“Auston,” Bonnie stops him with a hand on his arm. “Can we talk?”

“Sure.”

“Mitch told me this morning that you two were planning on going back.”

There it is.

“Oh yeah, the pipes back at our place have been bad ever since the whole plumbing issue back in March so he wanted to check on it,” Auston says, just like how he rehearsed it.

“You’re sweet, but I know that’s not what this is about.”

Auston’s face falls. He should’ve known better. For all her kind looks, Bonnie is just as sharp as Mitch is. There was no sense in getting around her.

“He’s been so scared of coming home for such a long time," Bonnie says. "I knew some of it was the environment here but I couldn’t put my finger on it. That is, until I met you.”

Auston closes the fridge door gently. “Me?”

“He loves you, we can all see that. He clearly considers you to be part of our family and him a part of yours. If he was already happy living and being with you, why put that at risk to come home?”

Auston still can’t say he feels great about replacing the Marners, even accidentally. Some of it shows on his face, a delicate spool of hesitance that Bonnie can pick up on. 

“I’m sorry... I,” she puts both of her hands up, “I’ve never done this before. What I mean to say is, I know times are a bit tough right now. My husband is still recovering from his surgery and Chris is trying to find what makes him happy in life. Neither of those things really get an answer. And I understand that it doesn’t make it easy at all so if Mitch was able to find another home, a new one that he felt safe with, I have no problems with him not coming home as often. I just don’t want him to distance himself so much that he loses the family he’s got.”

“I see.”

“You’re always welcome here. We all love you. I know Chris can be a bit,” she searches for words, “unreliable because of his apprenticeship and that makes him a bit cranky. Rest assured, we really do love you and I’m sorry we couldn’t show that to the best of our ability this weekend.”

“You don’t have to apologize, I know. Mitch talks about you all the time. He’s always bringing you up when we cook dinner or talking about how his dad got him out on skates and would drive him to practice. That kind of stuff doesn’t need an explanation.”

Bonnie looks like she’s come close to crying. “Thank you. I needed to hear that.”

“It’s true.” Auston’s stopped from saying more by yet another Marner hug. That kind of love, freely given at all times, is something that no commercial or display of affection can compare to. It’s free-standing and wholesome. 

Mitch comes home twenty minutes later with Chris in tow. Without saying a word, Chris walks up the stairs and disappears into his room. As far as goodbyes go, it’s not good. 

“We had a talk just now,” Mitch explains later, as they’re moving around clothes to fit their toiletries into the suitcases. “It didn’t _not_ go well. I think some things just need to sink in.”

“What did he say?”

“It was my fault. I brought up what I was thinking and none of it was true.” He begins biting his thumb’s nail. “I mean, I didn’t expect it to go well either way. He must really hate me now.”

Auston holds his words back. Mitch lets out a deep sigh.

“I don’t know why I’m making such a big deal about this. I’m not--you know I’m not..." Mitch pinches the bridge of his nose and tries to reorganize his words, “I love them and I love you. I’m not in ‘trouble.’” He uses finger quotes for the last word.

Auston understands what he’s trying to say, as hard as it is to get across. He gets his hands on the skin available to him and tries to force heat into Mitch, who for the first time that weekend has gone dead cold. Auston’s hands massage Mitch’s back, feeling knots almost everywhere he goes. He had no idea Mitch was so tightly wound about this.

“I love you,” is all he says. It seems fitting. 

The words work their magic. Mitch blows air out of his ring-shaped mouth. “I just want to go home and watch some Netflix,” he says. “A whole lot of it. Let’s not leave the house for the week we have off.” 

“Yeah, we’re going to binge a whole series, you and me. You get to pick.”

“Damn right I do.”

Auston pulls back. “But I pick the popcorn flavour, that’s only fair.”

Mitch’s shoulders slump. “Fine.” He assumes defeat a bit too fast. Had Auston not had the context of the situation, he might be worried.

Only Bonnie is downstairs to see them off. She doesn’t look happy but she could look much worse. She’s carrying the weight of the whole family on his shoulders, living with the truth of what chased both of them away. Even still, she makes the effort to smile.

“I love you, my baby.” She hugs Mitch. “Call me when you get home. Drive safe.”

“I love you mom, and don’t worry, we will.”

Bonnie hugs Auston next. “Thank you,” she says into his ear. Two words become more than just that. That knowledge will live between them.

Mitch looks like he’s having second thoughts about leaving the second they’re out the door. He’s dragging his feet, needing Auston to help guide him to the backseat. Auston opens the door for him and sees him inside, handing Mitch a bag once he’s seated.

“From your mom,” he says. He watches as Mitch peels back the foil to see some turkey sandwiches, the remains of last night’s dinner. 

It should have been the nail in the coffin. Mitch should have jumped out of his seat, unbuckled his belt, and raced back inside to be with his family. But instead, Mitch smiles to himself. He holds the sandwiches close.

He has his family’s love. That’s all he needs.

Auston backs the car out of the driveway. Seconds later, he feels the tell-tale blow of air on the back of his neck. When he tries to swat Mitch’s face away, he giggles.

He also has Auston’s love too.

**Author's Note:**

> one of the prompts was injury/injury recovery and i thought about doing a non-traditional injury, this time for family. with a happy ending of course!


End file.
